


Collar

by ImhereImQuire



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Implied Underage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImhereImQuire/pseuds/ImhereImQuire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel is digging through Armand's old things when he finds a disturbing old token.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collar

They were back in New Orleans for the first time since he had found Armand here, and Daniel was taking advantage of the daylight hours to return to the house where the game of cat and mouse had started. He was never allowed to know where Armand slept during the day, and the old place which Armand had called home intrigued him.

The bizarre arrangement of the books lining the walls made Daniel smile; it was such a childlike thing, like so much that Armand did, and Daniel had to fight the urge to try and take one from the tower, just to see if he could. No, he told himself. No sign that you were here.

The coffin was small and fitted, heavily padded with red velvet rather than silk and smelling slightly of bergamot and something else, coppery and not entirely pleasant, but he was still tempted to lie in it, Goldilocks style, and imagine what it would be like to sleep in such a confined space. It was clearly too small though, made for his diminutive lover, not his tall, skinny twentieth century frame.

The cellar containing the coffin yielded other treasures, too, in a slightly mildewed mahogany box, which he emptied carefully, item by item. A postcard featuring an impressionist’s rendering of Venice, half a deck of tarot cards, an old letter which his French was not good enough to decipher, though the neat loops and narrow, precise script had the stamp of Louis’ character, even if it bore no signature. Something about regret, and absence, and apology; that much was clear, but whose and over what remained a mystery.

The dim light of the torch meant that he would have missed the velvet ribbon altogether had it not brushed his fingers as he replaced the other trinkets. Upon further examination it was not a ribbon at all, but a velvet band, fastened with a tarnished silver buckle, with its centre supporting a delicate link upon which a small glass vial was attached, a dried red crust ringed around its inside. The brownish liquid inside was thick and barely moved when he tipped it, but there was no mistaking what it was, even were it not for the inscribed ‘A’ on the glass.

Daniel’s breath caught, and he self-consciously fingered the chain around his own throat, suddenly chilled, remembering what Louis had said about the human boy he had encountered at the theatre, whose name he couldn’t now remember, enraptured as he had been by the description of the immortals. Did this belong to him, or some other poor unfortunate ‘pet’ that Armand had kept? And it was so small, too small for his sinewy throat... how old must its wearer have been? At what age had his life been taken?

He knew I was not the first, he tried to rationalise…but this was different, too concrete, too real. And it wasn’t glamorous and sensual, it was horrific. Dead little boys would haunt his dreams tonight, he knew…but not his waking hours, not any more. He had to get out. He had to get away


End file.
